


Grazed Knuckles

by PinkBlossom



Category: NCIS
Genre: Big sister Ziva David, Gen, Gibbs as dad, NCIS Major Case Response Team (MCRT), Papa Bear Jethro Gibbs, Parental Jethro Gibbs, big brother Tim McGee, big brother Tony DiNozzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkBlossom/pseuds/PinkBlossom
Summary: Imagine being Gibbs' child and being suspended from school for fighting.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Grazed Knuckles

Following your dad into the squad room, you kept your head down. You could feel the eyes of Tony, Ziva and Tim on you as your dad instructed you to sit at the desk beside Tim. No one spoke, the look on your dad’s face was enough to put even Tony off from asking the obvious questions. Reaching into your bag, you get your books out and start making it look like you are working. Your dad answers his phone before heading up the stairs towards the Director’s office. As soon as he is out of sight, you looks up and the three special agents are observing you.

‘Well Junior, what have you done?’ Tony asks?

Keeping your head down, you colour in the margins of your jotter, you were too angry to talk about what had happened. You knew they were looking for the clues and coming up with their own answers

‘Is that a bruise on your face, (y/n)? And grazes on your knuckles?’ Ziva asked softly.

Remaining silent, you shrugged.

‘You don’t strike me as the fighting type, Junior. I guess you are a Gibbs though…’ Tony mused.

‘Grab your gear,’ you heard your dad bark at the assembled agents.

He stood in front of your desk. You carried on pretending to work.

‘(Y/N), go see Ducky, get those injuries looked at,’ he didn’t sound angry, more disappointed and in your eyes, that was worse.

You nodded and slunk of to the stairs down to autopsy. Ducky was clearly expecting you, waiting for you by the doors.

‘My dear (Y/N) what has happened to you?’

You attempted to smile at him but didn’t quite pull it off. Putting an arm around you, he led you over to his desk and made you sit. You knew as well as he did that your injuries, while dramatic, did not warrant medical attention. Ducky strode off and came back with a cup of tea in a delicate china cup. You smiled as he handed it to you. Ducky had long been your agony uncle and someone you could tell your woes to. He took a seat next to you and put his own cup on the desk next to him.

‘Your father tells me you’ve been in a fight,’ Ducky’s voice is soft and reassuring, no hint of judgement. You hang your head, not able to answer.

‘I’d say, given that you are clearly too angry to talk about this, that there is another side to this story. What are your other injuries?’

Reluctantly, you showed him the bruises that were forming on your back and stomach. He noted the bruises and scratches to your forearms as you put your shirt back on.

‘You’ve taken quite a beating. It must have been a ferocious fight,’ he pondered. Your silence bought and end to the conversation.

As Ducky instructed you how to care for your injuries, something he had done since you were little. He also offered you some pain relief but you refused. He joked about you being like your father. You drank your tea and when you’d finished, you’d thanked him and returned to your desk.

Tim was the first one back to the squad room. The others wouldn’t be back for a little while he told you. He smiled and gave you a warm look. He was the one person on the team you felt for of an affinity with. If anything, you were more like Tim than anyone, even your own father. You were quiet, bookish and more likely to be in the library than anywhere else.

‘Wanna go get some lunch?’ he asked.

‘Dunno if I’m allowed,’ you offered.

Tim smiled. ‘I checked. You’re allowed. Grab your coat.’

You were many things. Stupid was not one of them. You knew Tim had been told by your dad to talk to you. He knew if you wouldn’t talk to Ducky, then Tim was a safe bet. But what had happened at school, it still made you feel an anger you didn’t know what to do with. So while you talked with Tim, you’d skirted around the events of that morning. By the time you returned to the office, Tony and Ziva were back but there was still no sign of your dad.

‘That bruise is really starting to come out now,’ Ziva observed as she walked up to your desk.

‘Those look like defensive marks on your arms, (y/n),’ Tony added, now standing next to Ziva.

‘And there is no way you would have swung the first punch,’ Tim was now stood alongside his team mates.

You looked up at the three of them. ‘So you’re all ganging up on me now?’

‘We are trained investigators; we look at evidence. Spill Junior.’ Tony was looking at you with a smirk.

‘There’s nothing to tell. Got caught fighting, got suspended.’

‘I do not believe you,’ Ziva narrowed her eyes as she looked at you.

Ok, we’ll humour you. Where was the fight? In the canteen?’ Tim asked walking back to his desk.

‘No, outside the sports block,’

‘Another anomaly of this case if of course that Gibbs hasn’t balled you out yet,’ Tony pondered.

You huffed. ‘Well that’s probably coming when we get home.’

‘I think you’d be scrubbing the drains in autopsy if he thought you’d done anything wrong,’ Tony laughed.

‘Ha got it!’ Tim announced.

Everyone got up to look at the screen. Tim had accessed the CCTV from the school and was playing the footage. He heard the elevator ping. On seeing Gibbs exiting, he paused the footage.

‘Think you’re going to want to see this Boss,’ he called out.

Your dad stood next to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look as the recording of you being jumped by 3 much older kids played on the screen. The others watched as you were dragged to the ground and kicked. Two of the kids had run away as you’d got yourself up and landed a punch in the face of the remaining attacker, causing them to fall to the floor. A teacher then comes in to view, having witnessed only the punch you had thrown and had dragged you away. As the recording finishes, you can feel your dad’s eyes on you.

‘(Y/N), why didn’t you tell me this? Why did you let them suspend you when all you did was defend yourself?’ Your dad’s voice is mostly calm but there is a hint on anger there too.

By now, the tears are rolling down your face. ‘I did tell them dad. I even asked them to look at the cameras but they said they weren’t working. The kid I punched? Their parents have friends in the right places. Nothing ever happens to them. It was all their words against mine.’

By now your dad has you in a bear hug, gently kissing your hair. He gets why you’ve been so angry, especially as feels that anger too. How dare these 3 entitled punks do that to you. He was, however, proud of the fact you’d gotten up after being beaten to throw a punch that managed to land someone much bigger than you on the floor. That was definitely his influence shining through.

‘McGee, get that evidence on to a tape or disk or something. (Y/n) come with me, we’re going to see your Principal.’


End file.
